Contrast
by asthenia.oet
Summary: The world agreed that the Nanadaime Hokage was a co-writer of a romance hard to understand. (Post-canon) (Translated)


So, let me state this: I'm taking a risk here. My first translation EVER from Portuguese to English! I'm proud of myself on posting this even being so insecure about my writing. I'm Brazilian so my mother language is not English, obviously, but I speak/read English since ever, as a writer I'm a beginner. I'm very good at correcting stuff but very bad at translating, that's why I'm challenging myself by posting this fic. I hope you guys like, this is HUGE for me. If you find any mistake, let me know!

BTW, it's not exactly a story. Those are my thoughts about NaruHina in general. I wrote this in 2016. In the end you'll find some translation notes. :)

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On the edge of having a lonely life, the knucklehead ninja, such as Konoha's orange lightning bolt, or all the superficial adjectives, had made a smart decision upon the marriage with the heiress to the second most powerful Konoha's clan. The decision has been taken, maybe, to the strong scent of lilies that he could smell every time she would enter in a room – which he started to think it was his imagination, after all, he was the only one who could smell the aroma. Even so, the way she would explain everything in littles pieces when he could not understand anything that was happening around him. Sakura used to think it was because Hinata was always laughing at Naruto's silly acts, a bit exaggerated, but always so spontaneous. The couple's humor was constantly in a not so funny and childish style.

Nobody would know.

At the moment that the Hokage's smile would cross the room when a weird blue hair head would appear among other people. When the Knonoha's most powerful figure expression would simply relax when her eyes, almost blank, would focus on him. Nobody would understand.

He was one of these love stories that learned in the worst way that love was not always won by using the force, neither was something to conquer. Sometimes love was uneasy, but was his love, with no big fights, no insistences, instead of that life surrounded by war and tiring awards. In the end, a high price to pay. Uzumaki Naruto was the protagonist of a love that he would always owe the double, he could not pay even in a lifetime and in the most selfish way, it was his love. Only his. He would not dare to share with anyone.

Because nobody could know how big his smile was when he would wake up with her pillow stuck onto his face. Nobody would know she was the best cook that he had ever met. Her girly silhouette – which gave birth to his two children – was inappropriately seductive, or simply that he knew all her curves better than he knew Konoha's map.

The truth was one and only: Uzumaki Naruto was a poor guy telling and living hero stories in search of a real home with the scent of a newborn flower, wool, fresh ointment, onigiri, cinnamon, and sugar. He used to count all the moments he owned her the biggest and truest love as proof that he would never forget that one day he was just a man seeking attention when he had her so easily.

However, he never told her, when his first child was born, he touched his little copy's whiskered face. He counted each one of Boruto's fingers. He looked at Boruto's mother and counted her fingers as well. Together they have thirty fingers. Thirty. Twenty fingers from him and Hinata had resulted in more ten fingers. He cried upon that obvious fact. He and Hinata had made a human!

On his second childbirth, he saw the look in Boruto's eyes shine in a way he recognized. A smile on his wife's face. Naruto knew how they felt. The child was not blonde like him, she had a round face like her mother, but she was the second human that he and Hinata had made. Plus ten. Forty fingers. It was something huge coming from a person that used to think would die alone. Maybe losing fingers in battles but never getting more. That was not an option.

Shikamaru once pointed out that Naruto should not give up on Hinata, in a mission out of the Earth, because he was a shinobi. The Nara would remember his sentences echoing through the walls when he would enter in the Hokage's office and find free smiles to the Hyuuga's heiress. He was proud that he could help, somehow, taking off Naruto's denseness about love, his inertia to someone so full of feelings. But Shikamaru was an intelligent man and realized that every time that one of Naruto's hand would look unintentionally for Hinata's pale hand, it was weaknesses. A Konoha's leader could not let himself melt for someone like Naruto would around Hinata. Nonetheless, Shikamaru would not think about that for long because he had a wife and a child. He was weak too.

Even when the stories about the ungrateful love Hinata dedicated for the hyperactive blond would get a lot of attention, the tale of "the late love of Uzumaki Naruto" was a story written in short sentences, right affirmatives, free smiles, imploring glances and the need of touching. Much as negligent Naruto had been, today he was made of love. Only Hyuuga Hinata had the ingredient for this too-orange recipe.

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AN: I wrote this story in the passive voice purposely. The use of passive voice in Portuguese is a bit different from the English and the story is written originally in the passive voice, so I decided to keep in that way.

The use of adjectives and pronouns in English are WAY different from Portuguese too. In Portuguese, you can write a whole sentence without repeating the pronoun, but when you do that in English is rather confusing. So, I had to change that. Anyway, it doesn't make a huge difference.

I corrected the story using Grammarly, even though you can find some mistakes. I used the free version lol

Thank you for reading. 3


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